


The Wall Between

by CuriousThimble



Series: Evelyn/Cullen Shorts [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble
Summary: After Evelyn has a brush with death, Cullen starts doubting if his feelings for her are reciprocated, or if she's involved with Blackwall.





	The Wall Between

Blackwell carried her as gently as if she were a child. Cullen felt a strange stir, watching the Grey Warden cradle Evelyn as they rode into Skyhold. The Commander stayed distant, watching mages and surgeons surged forward as Blackwall dismounted easily with her in his arms. They’d received word from Scout Harding that the Inquisitor had been gravely injured and they were returning quickly, and the three advisors had been anxious ever since.

 

“How bad is it?” Leliana asked, following Blackwall as he carried her.

 

“The healer at camp said she was stable,” Cassandra volunteered. “But she is still in serious condition.”

 

“Take her to her rooms,” Josephine ordered. “It is prepared.”

 

Cullen grabbed Cassandra's elbow, holding her back while the group continued into the keep. “What happened?” he asked.

 

Cassandra shook her head. “I don't know, Commander. We were closing a rift, Blackwall was guarding her, and-”

 

“What do you mean, guarding her?” he interrupted.

 

“Whenever we close a rift, one of us always covers the Inquisitor while she disrupts the rift- the demons will attack her as soon as they realize what she’s doing,” she explained. “Varric and I were dealing with them, and Blackwall was covering her. All I know is when the rift closed, she fell.”

 

“And Blackwall?” he asked, anger burning like a hot coal in his stomach. “Was he hurt?”

 

“Yes, Commander,” she answered, watching the man with his precious cargo limp into Skyhold. “Quite badly.”

 

Cullen nodded, gazing in the direction the group had went. “Send him to me once this has died down.”

 

Cassandra nodded, worry for the Inquisitor making lines across her forehead. Cullen watched her bolt for the keep, and he turned and walked as calmly as possible to his office.

 

“Is the boss going to be all right?” he heard, and turned to see the Iron Bull standing off to the side with Sera. The elf was uncharacteristically nervous and quiet, and Cullen felt a pang of empathy for her. It took a moment for him to remember that they had stayed at the keep when Evelyn left- a simple matter, just closing a few rifts, she had laughed. Now he wished he’d sent the giant qunari with her anyway.

 

“Yes, Bull,” he assured him, hoping he wasn’t lying.

 

“Good to know. Come on, Sera,” he called. “Let’s get a drink.”

 

*

 

Blackwall doesn’t knock- in Cullen’s experience, Grey Wardens usually didn’t. He looked nearly as beaten as the Inquisitor had, and Cullen put down his pen, folding his hands and staring at him. At least one eye was black, there were signs of a broken nose, and he was still limping. All things considered, Blackwall took his scrutiny unfazed.

 

“What happened?” he demanded finally.

 

“It was my fault, sir,” Blackwall said quickly, voice thick with regret. “I was supposed to be covering her while she dealt with the rift.”

 

“And you failed in this responsibility?” he asked, his voice hard. “You _do_ realize she is the only one who can close the rifts?”

 

“Yes, sir,” he answered, eyes on the wall and expression blank. “I lost focus and strayed too far. When I looked back the demon had her.”

 

“Is the rift closed?”

 

Blackwall finally looked at him, pride in his eyes. “Aye, it is. Lynnie closed it before she fell. Girl won’t go down until her duty is done.”

 

 _Lynnie? Is there something going on between them?_ He wondered, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Good,” Cullen said brusquely, straightening papers on his desk without looking at them. “If it happens again, understand that I will personally make you a head shorter.”

 

Blackwall met his gaze with his own steely look. “It won’t, Commander. Now if I’m dismissed, I’ll go back to her bedside.”

 

“Go.”

 

_Her bedside? Are they so close? Has...has he come between us?_

 

As soon as he was gone, Cullen sent for Cassandra. They walked along the battlements, knowing that it could be hours before there is any real news of the Inquisitor's condition beyond what they already knew.

 

“Cassandra, you and I are friends, aren't we?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“I hope so, Cullen,” she answered easily, glancing over at him.

 

“And you and the Inquisitor...are you close?”

 

“She and I are also friends, yes.” Cassandra got a sly look in her eyes and grinned at him. “Forgive me, but what is this about?” she asked, the tone implying that she already knew what he wanted.

 

“Blackwall called her Lynnie,” he explained. “He carried her the whole way, you said.”

 

“Yes, they have a special bond,” Cassandra said diplomatically. “I have seen them spend a lot of time together.”

 

Cullen stopped in the exact spot where he first kissed Evelyn. He’d been so...hungry, he realized. Not just for touch and intimacy, but _her_ touch, the intimacy of _her_ presence. It was a curious thing, realizing how in love he was, but ever since that kiss, he felt as if he’d been speeding into love as fast as his heart could carry him.

 

“She will be fine, Commander,” Cassandra assured him.

 

“But she could have died, correct?” he asked fearfully. “I haven’t- the reports-”

 

“Yes,” she admitted, looking out over the mountains. “Her injuries were...severe. Leliana and Josephine have asked everyone involved not to discuss how severe. They do not want the Inquisitor to be seen as frail.”

 

“Tell me,” he growled.

 

The Seeker hesitated for only a moment. “Her arm was broken. Some ribs. Perhaps an ankle.”

 

“Sweet Andraste,” Cullen muttered, turning to stare at her. “All that?”

 

“And...and she was run through.”

 

“What?” he shouts. “Run through?”

 

Cassandra nodded, putting a hand on her side to show him where. “We left as soon as the healer said she wouldn't die on the journey. Blackwall never left her side.” She shook her head, and her next words were full of amazement. “His devotion is something to admire.”

 

“Run through…” he repeated, scowl deepening. “Excuse me, Seeker.”

 

Cassandra watched Cullen storm off in the direction of the main hall- and incidentally, the Inquisitor's quarters. With a knowing smile, she wondered if he planned to yell at Evelyn, Blackwall, or the other Advisors first.

 

A scout approached as he walked through the hall, and Cullen only half listened to his report before telling him to leave it on his desk. Nodding to Josephine as he passed, he entered the half-finished private dining room and ran up the stairs to her personal quarters.

 

“Inquisitor-” he said, stopping short at the top of the stairs.

 

Evelyn was lying in her bed, eyes closed. Her left arm was bandaged to the elbow, and she had dark smudges of bruising beneath her eyes. With her dark hair loose on the pillow and her animated face still, she looked so young and frail his heart slid to his stomach, leaving him sick and unsure of his legs.

 

“Sleeping,” he heard, and his gaze moved to Blackwall, seated beside her and holding her hand. The Grey Warden looked haggard, as if he hasn’t slept since the battle. “They keep giving her something to help her sleep so she’ll heal faster.”

 

They made such a pair that for a moment Cullen couldn’t draw a breath. After a moment, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Good. I wanted to see for myself that she’s all right.”

 

“I’m fine,” she whispered, blinking slowly and looking around.

 

“Lynnie,” Blackwall scolded, letting her hand go. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

 

She grimaced, trying to shift. “I’m tired of sleeping.”

 

“If the healers say you should be sleeping…” Cullen began, trailing off when she turned those sapphire eyes on him.

 

“I’ve slept most of two days,” she told him, wincing as she tried to sit up. “It still hurts. Help me, please.”

 

“It will for a few more days,” Blackwall informed her, pushing the hair off her forehead and lifting her into a sitting position. Cullen watched with growing suspicion and despair as the hairy giant took on the role of mother hen, fluffing and adjusting pillows to make her comfortable.

 

She sighed, closing her eyes at the pain movement brought. “Commander, did you need something?” she asked, lifting her head and looking at him again.

 

“I just wanted to check on you, Inquisitor,” he said, coming closer. “The reports have been positive.”

 

“I’ll leave you to talk,” Blackwall offered. “Don't tire yourself out,” he instructed, and kissed her forehead.

 

“I won’t,” she promised with a small smile.

 

“I’ll bring you some dinner later,” he added, letting them both know he’ll be back soon.

 

“And whiskey!” she pleaded with only half her usual exuberance.

 

“Absolutely not,” Blackwall declared as he headed for the stairs. “Josie nearly killed me last night.”

 

Cullen watched the exchange jealously, wishing he had that same easy way with her. Everything felt so _heavy_ where she was concerned: his feelings, their situation and their future. It left him reserved, afraid to hurt her, or let her be hurt if something horrible happened.

 

 _It makes perfect sense that she would want him instead,_ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. _He’s a warrior like me, but he’s casual with her in a way I can’t be. He also doesn’t have an addiction to lyrium eating at him with every breath. It would be easier for her with him._

 

“Cullen?”

 

He blinked, realizing that she’d said something and he’d completely missed it. “I’m sorry, Inquisitor,” he stammered, rubbing the back his neck. “What did you say?”

 

“I asked if something was on your mind?” she repeated, tilting her head to one side. “Are you all right, Cullen?”

 

“Yes, yes,” he murmured, sitting in the chair Blackwall had vacated. His eyes lit on a copy of the Chant of Light, well-worn and handled often. “Is this yours?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I...I didn’t realize you were a believer. I mean, you _said_ you were, I know, but…” He lifted up the dog-eared book with a small smile. “This is more faith than I realized.”

 

Evelyn smiled. “My family has ties with the Chantry and the Templars,” she reminds him. “But honestly…” She blushed and even with the cut on her lip and the black eyes, it was pretty. “I think the poetry is beautiful.”

 

Cullen smiled back and nodded. “I think so too. I used to stay up all night memorizing the canticles. Which one is your favorite?”

 

“Trials One, the last stanza,” she answered quickly.

 

He smiled brightly. “I like that, too,” he said, and started reciting.  
  
_“Draw your last breath, my friends._  
_Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky._  
_Rest at the Maker's right hand,_ _  
_ And be Forgiven.”

 

“I always liked it,” she said, looking out the open balcony doors. “But now...it means more, don’t you think?”

 

“I do,” he agreed, flipping through. “I rather like this particular passage also. _First, among the Old Gods-_ ”

 

“Cullen?”

 

“Yes, Inquisitor?” He looked up to see her grinning at him, one eyebrow raised.

 

Carefully she smoothed the blanket beside her, giving him a look that made his stomach quiver. “Did you really come to recite the Canticles, or were you planning to kiss me at any point?”

 

Cullen could feel a flush creeping up his neck. “I...um...what about Blackwall?”

 

Evelyn frowned. “What _about_ him?”

 

“I was under the impression that you and he…?” he left the question open for interpretation and waited for her to understand.

 

Which, due to either her confusion or the potions they’d given her recently, did not happen. “What?” she asked, shaking her head.

 

Cullen took a deep breath and plunged in. “Are you involved with him?”

 

Her eyebrows raised and her mouth made a small “o” of surprise. For a moment he thought he’d ruined everything, and when she giggled, he knew it.

 

“Blackwall?” she giggled. “Blackwall and _me?_ No!”

 

“No? You’re quite close, and-”

 

“And he reminds me of my uncle,” she told him. “Twenty years older than me, lots of hair, and generally grumpy. I like him, Cullen,” she explained, “but not how you mean.”

 

“Oh, well good,” he said with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. _Maker’s breath I’m a fool._

 

“Now about that kiss?” she asked, patting the space beside her.

 

His spirit soared, and he moved to sit beside her on the bed. “As Your Worship commands,” he murmured, sliding a hand into her hair and drawing her close.


End file.
